


Apertures

by Katya_D_R_Rarewyne



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, F/F, Post-Break Up, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katya_D_R_Rarewyne/pseuds/Katya_D_R_Rarewyne
Summary: There is something that lies between them, fractured, but still breathing. Lena wants it, has wanted it since the second the end came, and mistakes happened, and the words flew past their lips, jagged, and unfiltered. And Kara? Kara has wanted it since she knew the loss of a smile, of quiet laughter, and open, vulnerable eyes, could leave an ache so deep, her very chest aches. If only the chasm were easy to cross. If only there were cracks to let the light back in. If only.





	Apertures

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a bit of musing youmeandem (author of you are the fire (and i'm gasoline)) was doing on Twitter, inspired by the song Apertures. (Although my soundtrack for this story is Better Love). I asked for her permission to write this, and here we are. (Thank ya!)
> 
> I considered making this truly AU, but I have wanted to play in-universe for a while, thus this is merely canon-divergent, but I may eventually revisit the idea with an AU. Who knows.  
> ****  
> ****  
> CW/TW: For Mentions of IRL-war; implied depression

_Aperture: (n) a space through which light passes in_

She pushes her fingers through her hair, and leaves them there. Even with the solid weight of her head to anchor her in place, heavy beneath gravity, and the mass of her thoughts, she feels light, loose, untethered. The surface of the desk beneath her elbows blurs, and she blinks, stills, waits for the tremors to leave her body. In the dark, the cursor of her computer screen jumps against an empty white background, and she watches it. Nothing changes. No words appear on the screen despite her efforts to put _something_ there. She’s not sure what words would fit. There is no vocabulary to truly describe the horror of a war, the inexplicable deaths of children in a conflict of which they have no part.

The cursor blinks blearily at her once more, and she finally rises from her seat, closing the laptop, and stepping away from the desk. Across the room, the lights of her city bleed into the blackness of the night sky, and the silhouettes of skyscrapers smudge lightly in the foggy air. She walks towards the windows, hands already going to the buttons of her shirt, but despite the hour, there isn’t the screech of sirens, or the whispered hostilities of a mugging in progress. Her hands fall away, and instead, she rests them against the glass panes, cocks her head. It takes a moment to find the sound, the one she’s learned to tune out for the whistles of bombs across the world, and it hits her. Each beat settles into her own chest like the pulse of a too-harsh bass song, resonates so deeply in her bones she can feel the steady rhythm of it in her fingertips.

The glass beneath her palms cracks, spider-webs spreading across the breadth of the pane, and she steps back, startled. Her skin prickles with the static of an incoming call, and behind her, within seconds, the vibration of her phone follows. It is only a millisecond before it is in her hand, and the windows are to her back.

“Hello?”

“Kara.” Relief is rife on the other end, and she can hear her sister settle back into the covers; can hear the tell-tale rhythm of a second heart, and the louder rush of air leaving two pairs of lungs, in tandem.

“Alex? Is everything okay?” She’s grateful for the interruption; appreciates the distraction from a pursuit that would only have left her clutching at pieces of herself tonight, but…“You _are_ allowed to do something other than check in on me, you know. Like crawl into bed with your girlfriend, and fall asleep at a reasonable hour. Maybe not accidentally wake her up because you’re worried about your sister.” 

Alex huffs out a quiet laugh, and Kara feels a small smile flit onto her own face as she hears the minute changes of a body unwinding. “I love you both, and Maggie is fully aware that sometimes that means 3 a.m. check-ins after a late night at the DEO for me, and a quiet night for you. Also, to be honest, I just miss you. It’s not the same anymore, having you go ‘world-wide’, and all Man of Steel-ish. Also, tell Clark if he looked more Henry Cavill-ish, I might have considered batting for the other team.”

A quiet murmur interrupts them, and Kara halts mid-response, listening. “Babe, stop lying. The tights are okay, I guess, but you would never have been attracted to anyone who could out-glower you. Accept your L-Card, and maybe rip it off of Lois‘ back—”  

“I told you that in confidence.”

“If Kara doesn’t know this by now, she, and Kal, are bull-shitting us about the whole—” 

“Watch it. Calls can be monitored, and recorded, and—”

“We are both in law enforcement. Now let me get some sleep. Kara, you too. Even _you_ need it.” 

She laughs, feeling the weight of the dark thoughts, and the loneliness slipping away. “I love you, too, Maggie.”

“Kara,” Alex, whispers. “Are you really okay? We can talk about—”

“I am, and even if I wasn’t…just…not right now. Maggie is right. We all need to get some rest. Okay? I promise I will catch you up later. And…if…if I have…if I need you, I’ll call you.”

“Good. Please tell mom that when she calls. I do not need her worry, on top of my worry.”

She listens as Alex grinds her teeth together, and blows out a breath in irritation. “I swear. I could have you under 24/7 surveillance, and she’d still think I wasn’t making sure you’re okay. You’re my baby sister. I’ll _always_ be checking in.”

“She knows, and I know, Alex. Pizza night, and pot-stickers before I have to fly out the traditional way on Friday?”

Yes, please. Make sure there’s real ice-cream. Maggie won’t let me have any.”

“I heard that.”

“Vegan ice-cream does _not_ count.”

Maggie snickers. “It will if you…”

Her words trail off, but Kara still catches the tail-end of them, and finds herself cringing painfully. “No. Nope. No. You guys are not doing this to me. I do not need to be scarred at 3 o’ clock in the morning by my sister, and her girlfriend. No. Good night, Alex. Tell Maggie good night, and that she can’t skip out on the next game night. It’s been too long since everyone’s been together.”

“Night, Kara. We love you, and sorry about Maggie. She will be kinder to your gentle ears in future.”

Kara can hear the laughter in her voice, and she merely shakes her head. A sigh bubbles up at how incorrigible they are, but it brings her peace. It stems the nervous gaping thing that threatens to open up fully; leaves her content to know that they are _happy,_ and safe. She lets their gentle breathing calm her for a second, then ends the call. The silence yawns at her, promises to suck her in, while her senses threaten to slip out of her control, and reach beyond the space of her tiny studio apartment. She grounds herself; concentrates on the surface of her buttons as she reaches for them; hones in on the quiet ebb, and flow of the water miles away on the bay; lets her eyes track her fingers as they remove her clothing from her body, strip the enhanced polymer of the suit beneath those, away from her skin.

She stands there for a moment, feeling unwound while the tremors she had forgotten about settle into her hands again. In a second, she hits the cool sheets of her bed, pulls the covers above her head, and prays to Rao that sleep finds her tonight.

It does, an hour later, before she can work herself up into the nightmares of death, or Krypton, or the dying children. Somehow, the sweetness of the dream that does come, hurts more than all the nightmares that spare her that night.   

     

    ***

_There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. – Leonard Cohen_

Lena Luthor wakes at four a.m. with her heart in her throat, and the rawness of a scream that escapes the nightmare she is jolted from. Her hair is wet, and clumped together; the sheets tangled around her knees, and her jersey clinging to her back. She lies there; lets the certainty of her bed wash over her, and revels in the knowledge that she is not falling. It was just a dream. This time. There is no balcony disappearing above her, while the lights of various floors flash by like the short reel of her unhappy life.

The dreams are all the same. She chuckles mirthlessly. This one _was_ slightly different. She could see her mother’s face in place of the inept men who had pushed her over the real balcony a year ago. She could see her brother standing beside her, disappointment writ on his face as he watched her fall to her death, his lips uttering: _I taught you better than that, Lee. Surely you should have engineered flight capacity into your body by now. This is what happens when you depend too much on—_

She shakes the thought from her head, but considers the idea it has left there. Flight capacity. It would work with the blue prints from the nanobot technology for which she still has patents. A few years of research to redesign how they affect the human body, in addition to the research needed for the additional components—

Her phone goes off, and she reaches for it. _Thank God_ leaves her lips, and she opens up the emails going off. The spiral of a brainstorm after a dream would only have led to an anxious mess, and a panic attack before work.

At the top of the notifications is the reminder for her flight on Friday—below that, emails for the _other_ nanobot project she has been developing. _If only Jack could see it all **now.**_ The part of her that still treats his death like the sealed box their break-up was, cracks, and suddenly she yearns; feels it grip her tightly to reach out to the boy who dreamed of revolutionising the world with her, in some dusty makeshift lab, with bad lighting. Another notification breaks her from _those_ thoughts, and she picks up on the incoming call from her lab in the Middle East. The one sitting just on the outskirts of Turkey.

“A good morning to you, Emine.”

“Ms. Luthor, good morning,” the woman on the other end answers. ”I do apologise for the unscheduled call, but—“

“Has something gone wrong? Did the latest tests on the reversion of the damage wrought by the gases fail to offer any positive results?“

“No.” Emine is breathless, suddenly, and Lena can hear the relieved laughter in her voice. “It worked. The trials were successful. The success rate was incredibly high on the tissue samples we worked with. It’s the first breakthrough. We’re so much closer to this.”

“Thank God.”

“Al-ḥamdu lillāh, Ms. Luthor. We are so close.”

“Lena, Emine. Lena. And yes, we are. Thank you so much for calling me. But surely, there’s more? You seemed concerned when I first picked up the phone.”  

Her voice lowers, and Lena stills in response, tension rippling through her. “I think someone has been feeding our old friend details about our work. We had an unexpected group of visitors come by the lab.”

“Did they stop by in an…official capacity?”

“They claimed it was a routine inspection, but routine inspections don’t usually come in the form of _those_ uniforms.”

“I see. We will need to increase our security contingencies. For now, operate in Delta mode. When I arrive later this week, we can further discuss this.”

“I have already initiated Delta sequence. I anticipated we would be moving in that direction once you heard the news, and I know this is crucial to us all.”

“It is. I greatly appreciate your foresight. I will let you get back to work while I initiate things here.”

“Certainly, Lena.”

“Emine?”

“Yes, Lena?”

“Thank you for all your hard work on this. I know you would have done so even if your cousins, and Adnan—”

“I _would_ have done so anyway.”

“I know, but it couldn’t have been easy, and I am so grateful for all of your efforts.”

“Thank you.”

“Give everyone my regards, and thank them for their work as well. I will speak with everyone when I arrive.” 

“I will. Have a good a rest of your day.”

“You, too, Emine.” 

She ends the call, and presses the speed dial number for Jess. She picks up on the fifth ring, just as Lena is about to hang up. Her voice is rich with sleep, and Lena can tell she has not looked at her caller’s ID yet; probably has not even had the chance to reach for her glasses. “Hello?”

Lena sighs out her guilt, and swallows uncomfortably. “Hi, Jess? I’m sorry to bother you so soon before work, but—”

“Lena? Is everything all right? Do you need me to—”

The question startles her. It rings with such sincerity she thinks of **_her_** _. Lena, are you all right? You can always call on me, you know. If you just let me know you need me, even if it’s something small like you dropped your fountain pen, and spilled ink all over your white shirt, and you just need someone to listen to you rant about how—_

“No, no. It’s okay. This is work-related. No one has pushed me off of any balconies today…not that I would have time to do a call falling towards the Earth, but—” She bites her lips to stem the tide of anxious speech, and waits; takes a deep breath while Jess is silent. Lena wonders if she’s judging her. If she has added one more thing to the list of items that require pity.

“Ms. Luthor? You wanted something? Work-related. I am assuming this is about the project with Emine. It is the most pressing one on your calendar. What do you need me to do?”

This is what she appreciates most about Jess. That she has always been so good at deciphering even the smallest cues. “We are initiating Delta mode. I need you to have our security team liaison with theirs at the most appropriate hour, and offer them extra individual protection as well. Let Sayed, and Elias know that we may also need to switch facilities, and Zehra will need to reach out to our _contacts_.”

“Understood.”

“Thank you, Jess.”

“Of course, Ms. Luthor.”

They hover on the phone for a moment, and Lena is distinctly aware of how dark it still is. There isn’t even a streak of light, and sunrise is at least an hour away. Her clothes are still damp, her hair still a tangled mess around her face…and it’s so empty in this room. She knows she should get off the phone, allow Jess to catch the last few hours of sleep she can before the day ahead of them, and yet…

“Lena?”

She finds herself unable to answer. There’s an odd lump in her throat that won’t move, and the ghost of her dreams are lingering on her skin. She clears her throat, and forces the words past her lips. “I don’t need anything else, Jess. Thank you.”

“She’s here, you know. In National City.”

“I…How do you know?”

Lena hears her sigh, and she can sense the hesitancy. Jess is never hesitant. It makes her stomach coil anxiously, twist into a painful knot that she knows will reoccur throughout the day. “She reached out. Wanted to apologise to me for not maintaining our friendship _after_. Invited me to a meet-up she’s planning with some of her other friends.” 

“I…” Lena chokes on the words before they come out. “I’m glad you’ll be able to have a friend like her in your life again.” She doesn’t think about the fact that she hasn’t messaged _her._ Lena smiles, a brittle thing she can feel dripping off her face. She was always a woman of her word.

“She’s going to ask about you.” Lena feels her heart rate increase, and she wonders if it’s audible enough for _her._  “I’m going to be honest, but I want to know…is there anything you want me to say to her?”

 _That it was foolish, and I’m sorry, and I take it back, I take it all back, and wish I hadn’t said—_ “No, I don’t have anything to say. Thank you for letting me know. I know this must be awkward for you.”

Jess laughs a tired, quiet thing, and Lena can almost see her shaking her head. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Ms. Luthor. Please get some rest. I’ll push back your meetings by an hour, and have the reports from last week on your desk when you get in.”     

“Thank you.”

They both know that the additional hour is pointless. She won’t sleep. She can’t. The quiet hour to herself will be useful, though. She can flesh out the plans Emine, and her team need; can alter the schematics for the—

“I will see you later in the morning, Ms. Luthor.”

“Bye, Jess.”   

The silence that follows when the call ends, is still empty, but it feels more like the kind she has always liked. She rests her head against the pillow, shivering slightly from the cool air blowing on her damp skin. The hum of the cooling system is calming in the quiet, and for a moment her mind simply takes it all in. _She’s back._ Her stomach fills with a tension she almost names anxious anticipation, but doesn’t. Her teeth press into her lip painfully, and she runs a hand through her hair. Her fingers snag on a tangle, and she sinks into the pillows further, frustrated.

It nags at her. The knowing. The closeness. They are so near to each other they could run into each other on a street somewhere.

She stares up at the ceiling, and pushes the thought away. Instead, she turns on the lamp above her head, reaches for her tablet, and stylus. Lab results, and data charts, appear on the screen. She stems the tide of feeling making it difficult to swallow, bites down on her stylus. Her grip on it tightens, as for a moment, the memory of a fragrance hits her, overwhelms her senses. It’s almost as if the source of it is _right_ there. The stylus strains under her grip, and she grits her teeth, breathes out, and waits for the control that has always kept her steady, to settle into her body. This is better, _easier_ , she muses. Productivity carries with it far more usefulness than wandering thoughts ever could.

By seven a.m. she has analysed, annotated, and adjusted her plan of action for, three projects, with notes for two diverging ones on the side. At seven thirty a.m., she steps into her office, fully groomed, face a placid mask, heels clacking harshly on the marble floors of her building. She avoids Jess’ gaze as she has for the past year, but her voice does warble on the greeting.  


End file.
